I also want to take the time to collect some things that will, eventually, make their way into The Bones of Ghosts, whatever that ends up being. Consider this “Notes Towards Furthering ‘The Bones of Ghosts.'”

One thing that needs to be included in such an architecture of absence is “Reverse Graffiti,” like this:

Also included would be the work of Daniel Libeskind and other contemporary architects for whom the whole is found in the absence of parts, that is, where perfection is found in fragments. An example of this in fiction can be seen in the Second Death Star in Return of the Jedi, which, though seemingly incomplete and imperfect, is actually much greater in power than the original.

A month ago, an architecture blog that I read called Life Without Buildings was looking for a definition of Lo-Fi Architecture. I knew immediately that I had to talk about hauntological architecture. I first started expressing my current hauntological views in the context of a course on the philosophy of architecture during my undergrad. Actually, what I was interested in in the context of this course was an “architecture of impermanence,” specifically looking at Baudrillard’s writings on graffiti and comparing them to some McLuhan (I was interested in spaces defined by their participatory and malleable nature).

What does this have to do with hauntology? Well, Brian MacKay-Lyons runs an annual architectural experiment called Ghost Lab. Each summer, a group of architecture students get together on his expansive property in southern Nova Scotia and within a couple of weeks they design and build a Ghost structure (or more). The buildings are “ghosts” in that they are usually not permanent structures, but also “ghosts” because they are built on old sites often using materials from these ruins, some of which are upwards of 400 years old. I think the hauntological aspect becomes apparent now. We have structures as ephemera, “the bones of ghosts,” in that they are built simply and not intended to be solid structures but to change with their surroundings. Also, they are deeply connected with the ruins of their context.

The best example of this is probably “Simon and Wilson,” aka “Ghost 6:”

These towers were built on the same locations, occupying the same space as the first two settlers of the area, two brothers name Simon and Wilson.

We have impermanent structures, rooted deeply to the past, make essentially of the corpses of long lost entities, made with and in the spirit of these pasts. These are ghosts brought back. Architecture as necromancy. This shows exactly what I mean by the possibility of ghosts returning in a Spectral Realism, the idea that their bones could reassemble, perhaps not in the same way, but in the same spirit. In this way, a ghost can never achieve the perpetual peace of absolute non-existence, but is always only “almost dead.” No ghost is ever entirely here, nor are they ever entirely absent. The referent in “Ghost 6,” the ruins of past lives, and the context of life happening in southern Nova Scotia… this is all memory, this is all an assemblage of ghosts, from the fallen trees, to the brothers, to the builders, it is a complex network of spectral interactions, not all of which can ever be known. It isn’t necessary for a ghost to ever show itself, but when it does, it is always appears that the ghost was dormant, that in every event, a resurrection. A ghost is always possible.